


Devil May Funtimes

by CrownandAntler



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Asexual Reader, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Loving Sex, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 08:43:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19002331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrownandAntler/pseuds/CrownandAntler
Summary: Just an ongoing series of DMC smut requests from my tumblr blog. Submit yours to CrownandWriter @ tumblr, or in the comments.[Reader is referred to in the neutral, but are described dfab unless requested otherwise.]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm done with college and ready to write again!

V trembles beneath you on the bed, with fingertips and knuckles turning white around the gripped flesh of his thighs. Between his shaking and the sweat he’s barely holding his knees pinned to his chest, but trying so desperately to keep them there.

“Don’t you let go, turtledove,” you coo, leaning over his moan-slackened face. “You have to stay like that if you don’t want me to stop.”

His lips tremble for a moment as if he’s about to cry, but then V finally opens his eyes and gives you that daring smirk he so often taunts you with. Cheeky little bastard.

“Little minx,” he drawls under his breath. The words roll around on his tongue, eyes daring you to watch it between his parted lips as it glides over his molars and flicks like a beckoning finger. His jaw drops wider when your fingernail tickles a feathery line up the back of his thigh, between two clenched muscles.

“What was that?” That deadly finger roams up in one long motion, to the flesh bruising under his straining fingers, then down, around the curve of his exposed ass, skirting just around where you impale him with a thoroughly lubed strap. V’s eyes flutter again, breath held as he follows the faint, teasing path with all the attention he can spare. The sensation runs up again, but now between his balls and up to the head of his blushing cock which your single finger gently pins against his belly. Precum dribbles out slowly, though he can’t feel it pooling for how hot his skin is. “Look at you,” you speak again. His eyes snap to meet yours. “I haven’t even begun fucking you properly, turtledove. As I recall, you mentioned never having done this before? And yet here you are taunting me with that usual vim like you aren’t about to cum just from my voice and some still-fullness.” Your strap-on is already hilt-deep in V’s ass, but you rut into him regardless, the wriggling motion aiming for his prostate and rewarding a sharp gasp from his delicious mouth.

Your head descends to his chest slowly, kissing the slight hollow of his sternum and tongue laving over his frantic heart.

“I just want to make you feel good, turtledove. So be sweet for me, yeah?”

Your hands rest gently over V’s, helping them to readjust his hold to something more secure. He’s silent in what you can only suppose is contemplation–or maybe embarrassment–but his eyes flutter closed as he finally releases that breath, and maybe some reservations he had yet been clinging to. His adam’s apple bobs noticeably.

“Don’t make me beg, dearest.”

“I won’t,” you promise softly, cupping his ass gently and raising it so you can press your knees slightly underneath. “This is all about you.”

V thinks he is ready for you to move inside of him–just laying there with the cock inside of him, he had nearly forgotten how full it made him feel–but oh he is wrong. Slow as it is, the pull against his insides is intense enough to bring his mouth open in parallel with the drawback of your hips. You don’t push back in right away, bobbing just the tip of it to remind him what that first entrance had felt like, and then slowly spearing him back when you can see anticipation clearly on his face.

He adjusts quickly after the few initial thrusts, his moans arking electrical-sharp oh–oh–oh’s with each thrust of your hips against his tight ass. You grow rougher with V–he takes it well–and the sight of his body lurching with the force of each thrust is one of the most delectable things you’ve laid eyes on in a while; his feet swaying in the air, toes curled, while fluttering clenches of his calves accentuate the movements; hair haloed around his pillowed head and shifting minutely as his body lurches ever so slightly up and down when you connect; and his cock slapping against his belly when you fuck him just right, a pearly strand of precum pulled taut between. V’s face is increasingly expressive, with his cheeks rosy red and his plush lips open, wet, nearly drooling. You bite your own lip hard at the sight, and when V’s evergreens meet your gaze he keens long and desperate at the sight of you taking all of him in.

“You’re so pretty, turtledove,” you breathe. One hand gliding lovingly up his heaving sternum. “All lost in your pleasure. Are you gonna cum?”

V blinks hard a few times, staving off stars bursting in his eyes.

“I need–My hands–I can’t–t-touch me,” he manages between gasps. “Touch me!” His blush deepens at the obscene face you make at his desperation, as if your positions were reversed, but something about the thought of you getting off just looking at him makes his balls tighten to near discomfort.

“Anything you want, turtledove,” you say between breaths. Your hand slides up the underside of his cock, rubbing, tracing the lines around the head of his cock for a few torturous moments before you finally grip his entirety and jerk in tandem with your thrusts.

You know as well as V does when he’s about to cum–his body is so reactive that the display makes it easy to track the shocks of pleasure shooting down his legs, up his spine. Goosebumps rise along his neck and his fingers grip his own legs so tightly you know his tender pale flesh will bruise. He lets out a moan more like a yell and his whole body shivers, and you fuck him harder through the waves of it, even when he wriggles and weakly ruts his hips up to meet you. Thin strands of cum streak up the length of his chest, and after a few tense moments he finally sighs.

You slow to a halt, rubbing your hands lovingly up and down the expanse of his thighs and hips while you steady your own breathing.

“So good, sweets, you did so good,” V moans weakly at the praise, but can’t move to respond for all his exhaustion. Your gentle fingers pry his tense hands from his legs and knead the stiff knuckles before coaxing his legs to relax. When you glance at him, V is peaceful, already dozing under your careful massages, so you lean up to kiss his clammy cheek with a whispered promise that you’ll care for him in his slumber.


	2. Vergil x Reader

Vergil was many things, and while one may expect the opposite, understanding was indeed one of them. Never in his wicked life had he expected to find someone to love, let alone someone who would love him back after all his failures and shortcomings. Yet he found you.

 

As it usually was, you expected your lack of sexual interest to be a problem. And perhaps it could have been if Vergil was even a remotely different man--demonic blood could drive a person insane for various reasons, evidently, and lust was certainly among them--but he actually took the discovery quite well. It was some time in before he desired you in that fashion anyway, and by then was more than prepared for a long and frank discussion about it.

 

But still. Watching him fight, fluid like a dancer and brutal like the greatest beast, and all while so proudly flashing his teeth between his demonic opponent and your spectating eyes, you couldn’t deny he deserved praise. A reward.

 

Vergil is so tall he surrounds you; nothing exists in your vision beyond the brick wall at your back and his battle-worn body caging your front. His clothes are tossed somewhere on the empty street--he really couldn’t care at the moment, no one but you is around to see him so exposed. It was as close as you could get to submission from him, probably. His muscles taught, chest heaving with a sheen of sweat and demonic blood drying on his cheeks, while you stand fully clothed beneath him, with a firm hand around his cock and the other farther down massaging his balls with near-roughness. He doesn’t say anything, and hardly looks at you, instead clenching his eyes closed to focus on the feeling of your soft, unburdened hands. But _you_ can talk all you like.

 

“You’re so impressive, love. So powerful, no one ever stands a chance against you, you know.” Vergil dips his head a little, growling low in his chest. Your mouth barely reaches to the bridge of his nose. “I stood so close to that fight and you never let a single one of them touch me. You’ve worked so hard, I can tell. No one else could protect me like you do.”

 

His eyes are sharp on yours then, plush bottom lip caught in his teeth. Each pump of his cock earns the smallest, dreamy flicker of his eyelids. One of his hands strays from its brace against the wall and pets your hair, cupping your skull possessively. “No,” he says with a clipped smirk. “No one lays a hand on you.” _Not even I, as you desire it._

 

You nod, glancing down at his cock to see it flushed rosy opposed to the pale of his thighs, with your hand working it ceaselessly.

 

“I love you, Vergil.” Your second hand moves, caressing his jaw, then dragging nails down his chest to tweak a delicate nipple. “You’re so good to me, so loyal.”

 

A single chuckle falls from him and his hand drags your jaw upwards for him to kiss you, long and firm. His hips start to move with your hand, stuttering minutely when your fingertips press piano-key tunes into the vein at the underside of his shaft. Vergil rears his torso back next, spine arched, abs stretched lean for you to view as his hands fall to your shoulders and clench hard.

 

“You give me this ultimate indulgence,” he growls with finality, slaying a worry before it can even take root with blue eyes striking fire somewhere in your chest.

 

Vergil fucks into your hand voraciously, panting and grunting with the effort. The muscles in his legs strain beneath his skin, tight with effort, his biceps bulging with the same effort of holding you. You follow his pace as well as you can but eventually result to keeping your wrist as still as you can against his force, and reach out to massage his flexing pecs with the other.

 

Vergil holds out as long as he can, before he knows you two must continue on, but when he lets his orgasm strangle his breath away it still feels too soon. He hunches over you again suddenly, gripping your hand in his own as he plants his feet wider and thrusts as thoroughly as he can into your sweet palm. His fingers force yours to press harder, until you can feel the affected pull of his skin on each backstroke, and he moans your name loud and clear into your hair.

 

Thick globs of his cum fall onto your legs, running down in hot rivulets to the pavement. He keeps going for a minute or two after, dragging out as many aftershocks as he can while he moans responses to your loving coos in his ear. You never let go of his cock until he asks you too, massaging it gently even after it falls soft, and then wiping it clean before Vergil draws you against the expanse of his chest.

 

“You indulge this demon too well.” He sounds tired, but turns to peer for his clothes anyway.

 

“All for his pleasure, love,” you whisper back, lips pressing soft against the thrum of his heartbeat.


End file.
